


I'm Miles From Where You Are

by rewrittengirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Canon Continuation, F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, Jolly Roger - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Neverland, Rescue Missions, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, enchanted forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewrittengirl/pseuds/rewrittengirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>---Killian Jones is lost. No compass could guide him now. His cause could never be less clear when the only thing pushing him forward was the memory of the boy who he betrayed. Now that the boy is dead, he can do nothing but aid those to find what little is left of Baelfire-his son. Formulating a plan to get Henry back from the Pan's clutches, Hook tries to ignore the pangs of guilt and remorse... But his heart is finally being unlocked by those very memories he would rather bury.</p><p>---Neal Cassidy has washed ashore to the land he prayed he would never see again. Wounded physically-- and broken mentally by Emma's last words to him-- he is nursed back to health by Aurora, Mulan, and Prince Philip. When a discovered compass sparks memories of his former Captain, his conflicting emotions between Emma's last confession and vivid remembrance of his days as Hook's companion clash, without any way of resolving them.</p><p>When they finally meet again, on the shores of Neverland, their lives may change forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Among the Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have been a part of this ship for almost a week, and I am thoroughly obsessed. This fic has been in the planning stages for that week, and it is only now that I present the first chapter of this /extensive/ story that will probably last about forty freaking chapters hellifiknow... I should be going to bed, as I have finals in the morning, but I'm depriving myself of sleep for you. So I hope this is alright. I don't know if I like the ending of the first chapter as it is, but I wanted to end on a flashback. So there you go.
> 
> *sighs* Here's hoping I finish this one. I love you all, my fellow Hookfire crew members. Anchors away!
> 
> **title for the fic comes from "Set Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol and Martha Wainwright, which, in my opinion, should be the official song for this ship. Look it up.

The sea in Neverland was especially calm, undisturbed... that was until Captain Hook sailed its waters once more.

He stood upon the deck of the Jolly Roger, steady and unwavering in his stance. But his heart beat louder and faster than the drumming of the waves against the ship. The isle of Neverland was a mere speck in his golden spyglass, but he could already feel the pull and tug of its shores on his body. They were bound to it now. _He_ was bound to find himself there again. It was only a matter of time...

Killian masked his discomfort well by remaining the physically impassive captain that his reputation conceived him to be. The night was as cold as the black water, and his breath came in translucent mists. Anyone who looked on wouldn’t notice the staggering of it, how it sputtered and dragged as if its owner was unable to steady their lungs.

That was... anyone but Emma Swan.

He hadn’t noticed her at first, though eventually even she could not mask the creaking of the deck that old wooden ships were wont to produce. Killian’s grin cracked as he turned around, collapsing the spyglass and tucking it in his breast pocket. “Miss Swan. I assume you’d like a word with me.”

The woman was broken. It was easy for the shattered to recognize the same in another. Searching eyes, disbelief in a frown, the yearning to utter words of mourning but the inability to do so... They’d both lost a bit of themselves the past day, so yes, he could sympathize. But...

Emma zipped her jacket to prevent the cold from getting to her, but he could see her bristling, just like her namesake upon touching a freezing pond. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

Jones licked his lips, his eyes drifting to the deck and back out to the water. “I don’t rest at night. It’s the most vulnerable time of day on a pirate ship.”

She nodded in understanding, joining him at the railing to stare into the distance. Killian slung his hook through the shrouds, leaning against his arm with his hand stuffed in his pocket. “It’s just as well, in any case. Any dreams I might have would turn to nightmares as I’m about to face _him_ down once more.”

“You know him well, then,” she said, reclining her arms against the railing. “If you fear him so much then why are you helping us?”

Killian blinked, stuffing away the remarks he’d like to shoot her and instead deflecting her question. “I don’t _fear_ him, Miss Swan. I _loathe_ his power over this land. Those who have lingered here through the ages follow Pan blindly. When an outsider like me came around and saw that he was poisoning innocent minds, I wasn’t welcomed gladly. I imagine he despises me as much as I do him.”

Emma looked at him with experienced eyes, trained to win his lying game. “Is that really why you’re doing this?”

The wind picked up and cast about Killian’s cheeks. He rolled his eyes, unable to look any longer at the Neverland’s ever closer shores. He turned and walked to the helm, gripping the wheel just to have something to hold onto.

“You’re not getting away from this, you know.”

“And your insistence isn’t going to illicit an answer from me, either.”

She was formulating a strategy, he knew, so he addressed her plans for her. “You wrack your pretty brain for some way to ‘break’ me all you want, Swan. I have my reasons for doing as I do, just as everyone does. _Leave_ it.” He didn’t look at her. He _couldn’t_ look at her until he figured a way to mend the pain he shouldn’t have.

Emma didn’t speak for a moment. She merely looked at him, and he could feel her eyes watching his expressions. He was compelled to glance back, though he’d tried not to. When he did, her face was plain, yet sorrowful.

“I’m sorry. For whoever it was, I’m sorry.”

Killian gave a hollow, quiet laugh, his grip tightening on the helm. He turned his head, but unfortunately his gaze landed on the _carving_. Tightening his lips, he nodded a kind of thanks.

For a while Emma was silent, but being left to his thoughts at that point was a bad idea. So, he gave her what she wanted.

“Aye... I lost someone dear to me recently, Miss Swan, and I’ll be damned if I let you lose someone you care about as well.”

He lifted his head, and Emma gave a knowing smile. “Thank you.”

 _For trusting me,_ he heard. _And for helping us_. He saw this in her eyes, but they were both too proud to admit these sorts of things aloud.

 _‘You shouldn’t trust me, dear Emma_ ,’ he whispered in his mind. _‘Because I can hardly tell you that I desire to save Henry since he’s the only thing left...’_

Killian’s eyes misted over as he stared ahead. Emma seemed to notice and nudged his arm. “So, you wanna tell me who Pan _is_ exactly or what?”

Reaching through his daze, he grinned and shook his head. “Who he is? Well, in your world he’s something of a hero, and I the dastardly villain... or so I’ve read.”

“Right... J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan, Neverland, I get it.” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “But of all people I should know that the stories aren’t always accurate.”

“Indeed, Miss Swan. Pan is a smiling, mischievous youth, but... I believe that’s where similarities end.” Killian raised his hook in the moonlight, examining the way it shone and cast a harrowing shadow about the deck. “Peter Pan, to put it plainly, is evil incarnate.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Hook...”

“It’s true!” Killian turned his back and leaned it against the helm, crossing his arms and looking up at the stars. “The Peter Pan you know is an innocent, free with folly and shady morals, but harmless. Yes, you of all people should know how well our histories were chronicled in the Land without Magic.” He grinned at her. “Look at me! That scott Barrie made me out to be a curly haired fop!”

Emma chuckled. “When did you even find time to read it... sailing to New York?” she muttered, joining him in leaning against the large wheel of the helm, both resuming stargazing.

“The point is, all you know of the Pan is incorrect. He is an enigma. Since I’ve known him I lost count of the number of children he brought to Neverland, never to see their families again.

“... You lot have only faced enemies of the vengeful nature. They say love is the strongest motivator for evil doings... Even I have been on this quest of mine because of it.” The two shared a glance, and he knew she would not press him. Good girl, Swan.

“Pan, however, is a shadow. He does not feel remorse, nor does he attach himself to pets or tokens that would give him weaknesses. He is not seen until it is too late. He takes for himself and his Lost Ones those children who wish--or perhaps beg not-- to be lost themselves.” Killian craned his neck toward the sea, feeling closer to Neverland’s treacherous shores with each passing moment. “You can hear their crying screams at night, when they realize they are alone.”

His voice died in a near whisper. He could feel himself and Emma stiffening, and a sailor’s knot was forming in his throat. He couldn’t even remember... had Bae cried for help? His wild, pleading eyes were all that remained in his memory. Betrayal was a wound that cut both affected parties... No, Bae had not cried for help.

When he glimpsed Emma’s face again, she was wiping away premature tears. “During my previous stay here,” he began, holding her gaze until he was sure her tears were dry. “I was not made aware of Pan’s purpose with the children. I can only imagine what it was that interested him so... But as far as I’m aware, he has never _killed_ a single child.”

Emma’s lips faintly smiled. She nodded, seemingly grateful for his reassurance.

“And besides,” he shrugged, “Adults are his worst enemies. I suspect those two who took your boy”-- _the ones who took Bae’s life_ \-- “will be in far more danger than Henry.”

She nodded slowly in understanding. “How did you survive, then? If he hates adults so much?”

Killian gave a wry grin, leaning down to her ear and speak-whispering, “To be perfectly honest, like the Crocodile, he _loves_ deals.”

A smile was brought to Emma’s face, and she ended up laughing. He was glad he could bring joy to her in that moment. Now if only he could raise his own spirits...

“And just what did you bargain, Captain?”

Both of them turned their heads quickly to the voice. The Crocodile stood erect in the pale moonlight. He twisted his cane in agitation.

Killian’s eyes steeled as he rose his head. He replied point blank. “If I only stepped on Neverland’s shores once a year to supply my ship with essentials, _and_ if I minded my own business and denied nothing the Pan required of me, then my crew and I could remain sailing... and _alive._ ” His brow furrowed, and his lips twitched. “Though I can’t say the number of times I’ve longed to _deny_ those requests.”

“So he wants to be left alone,” Emma offered. Gold walked closer toward them to fully join their conversation, though Killian would rather have him below deck... perhaps in the _brig._

The pirate sneered. “Not _alone._ He wishes to live in _chaos_. Neverland is a place with no rules, and Pan is the king of discord. Adults represent order, structure. We are everything he ran away from and wishes to keep at bay. What child _wants_ to be told what he’s doing is wrong? Certainly not one who _knows_ he isn’t right.”

He let that mull over in their minds, though he had no doubt the Crocodile easily comprehended Pan’s power over Neverland. He knew who he was, that much was certain...

“So how do we stop him?” Emma was desperate for answers... and he couldn’t blame her. Not now.

“Kill him?” Gold supplied flippantly. Killian wanted to rip that smile off his face by the tip of his hook, little by little...

_‘It’s your fault, Rumplestiltskin. But you already knew that, didn’t you?’_

“Kill him?!” He gave a hollow laugh to mask his physical response to Gold’s presence. “My dear Crocodile...” The captain went to the railing and clung to the shrouds again. A fire was starting in Neverland. He could see a spark like a star in the distance. “You can’t kill him. Pan is an immortal soul. A child forever.”

As he turned to look at them with an ominous foreboding in his eyes, the ship rocked with a gust of wave and wind. He held onto the hatched ropes by his hook as they tried to steady themselves. His face was like a stone.

“You can’t kill what’s already dead.”

* * *

_“So who is he, anyway?”_

_Captain Hook’s unchanging gaze from the sea broke when the boy appeared behind him. He turned from his focus at the helm to watch young Baelfire finish adjusting his new collar. Hmm, the boy didn’t look bad in his clothes. Killian would make a pirate of him yet._

_“He’s not the shadow that brought me here, is he?”_

_Hook hadn’t realized he’d been staring. He shook his head, both to empty his mind and to answer in the negative. “No, he’s not. He’s the owner of that shadow, lad, and you’d do best to stay away from the both of them.”_

_Baelfire shivered in the cold night air, his breath like chilled steam from an icebox. “Sounds like you’re a little afraid of him, sir,” he grinned._

_Killian tutted, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be cheeky, now. I’m your means of survival, remember?”_

_The boy shrugged, picking at the wine-colored jacket with a frown. He looked sad when he wasn’t trying to make light of the situation... It reminded him of Milah, how she was always secretly empty inside, despite their continuous adventures. Hook rubbed his chin, wandering to the shrouds and clutching them with hand and hook. Through the ropes he saw Neverland. Distantly, he could hear the cries of lonely children, not just on the island, but echoing in his mind._

_“What’s wrong?” Baelfire approached him, leaning forward on the railing and stretching his neck around to look at Hook through the netting._

_Killian’s face shied away from meeting Baelfire’s. Not that he feared his eyes would betray him-- the boy would never know of his relationship with his mother. It was just... that same look was one she gave him. A kind of happy-concerned expression, a smile to lighten the mood but frowning eyes that worried. _

_“N-nothing, boy. Keep to yourself.” Killian breathed through his nose, now trying to focus on the stars. He had to remind himself that Baelfire wasn’t just Milah’s son... but the Crocodile’s as well. His blood coursed through the boy’s veins just as much as hers did._

_Upon glancing at him, he watched the younger frown. “You keep calling me ‘boy,’ and ‘lad.’ I have a name, you know.”_

_With this Killian had to laugh and shine his pearly teeth at him. “That you do, boy... that you do.”_

_Baelfire glared at him, but he continued to laugh. He slung his left arm through the net and careened his right to ruffle the boy’s hair. He grimaced and smoothed back the disarrayed locks from his eyes, but Hook detected a smile._

_“Don’t be so bothered, Bae-- if I may call you that.” _

_Bae pushed more of his hair behind an ear and smiled wider. “It’s better than ‘boy,’” he muttered, fiddling with the cuff of the jacket. “...Thanks for the clothes, by the way.”_

_Killian nodded and smiled softly, gazing at Bae with contemplative eyes. He blinked, looking down._

_Quite suddenly, he heard a distinct yawn come from beside him. Hook pinched that loose red coat and then patted his back, strolling to the helm. “Get ye to bed. You’ve had a rough night, I imagine.”_

_His young companion rubbed his arm where he’d pinched it, shrugging with apathy. His face was flaxen and worn. Hook couldn’t help but feel the harsh battles he’d gone through, in his own way. He couldn’t imagine having such a demon like the Crocodile for a father... Not even his own father could disgust him so. He knew without asking that the Dark One had abandoned his only child... What would Milah think if she saw her son now, distraught with the memories of his past...?_

_“Goodnight... Captain,” Bae muttered as he descended the steps of the quarter deck._

_Hook looked after him, uncertainty in his eyes. He stepped forward, gripping the railing as he peered down at the youth. “Bae?”_

_He turned around, trying to focus on Hook’s raised form in the tired darkness. “Yes, Captain?”_

_The man grinned, tilting his head. “It’s Killian, lad. Killian Jones, if you please.”_

_Bae’s shining face smiled, and he nodded in understanding. Then, he disappeared, leaving Killian to reflect upon his strangely beating heart._

 


	2. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So right after I first published this fic I started this next chapter, but I lost my Hookfire muse until now, with the season premiere. I'll have you know that this ENTIRE fanfiction has been plotted extensively, and will *hopefully* have weekly to bi-weekly updates coming along shortly! Here's to hoping time allows it though! I am in college, so they might not be /on the ball/. I'll do my best!
> 
> EDIT: I just realized that in the previous chapter I guessed that the fic would last forty whole chapters. Well guess what? It will. /Exactly/. Wtf am I psychic?
> 
> -Leffie

He was falling again.

Disappearing. Fading, in and out of consciousness. Through the dark and bright lights of the worlds. Thunderclaps, magic warping around his form. A dizzying, vomit-inducing display. He was barely coherent... but internally, he was screaming.

What had he done to deserve this? He ran from magic for a _reason..._ And yet it kept finding him, pulling him back in to pay prices he couldn’t afford.

Images floated through him, around him. Emma... Henry... Tamara, how could she? Neal didn’t trust easily... How could he not have seen the deceit in her eyes? Colors... shapes... hard to make out. Fading...

He couldn’t breathe. Pain coursed through him, the rapids of his blood overflowing in his veins. He was rushing, breaking... His skin was prickling with cold... Caresses of finest silk ran over his cheeks, his palms. Where would daylight be, if he opened his eyes from the darkness?

Water, filling his lungs. He saw nothing but water, vast and never-ending. The salt stung his eyes, but he hadn’t seen water so blue since...

He was weightless. Thin ribbons of blood polluted the water from his still open wound. He was struggling to maintain consciousness again. His fingers bobbed in front of him, distorting the ribbons, mixing them into the water as if red smoke dissolving into air. If he could breathe, he would have possibly sobbed.

Neal was lost again... Fading further still...

… And then... a voice. Its calling to him caused his eyes to roll back, a shudder flowing through him. It kept singing, kept begging him to hold on, though the water was flooding his eardrums. It sounded so far away, and yet it felt so close...

A body pressed against him. Neal attempted to break free from the shadow’s grasp, but he was too weak. Perhaps he might sink... Yes, sinking would be better than this. Frightened and drifting... falling... Could he fall further...? Or would he be raised from the deepness of the sea...

Darkness before sunlight. Neal had momentarily blacked out before they reached the surface. He felt cold, clammy hands holding his face and his torso, the voice still whispering to him like a lifeline. These were not human hands... no, he’d felt these hands a long time ago...

Couldn’t breathe. Choking, coughing... As he was pulled along the exterior by his savior, he watched as the sun was setting on a land he knew only too well. His sobbing became more choking, nearly leaking blood and tears.

… _No... no please... not again..._

His relaxing head dipped into the water, the voice continuing to whisper sweetness. The tug was universal now, the pulse that dragged him to some unknown shore echoed all over his body. Just a little further...

_“Just a little further, sir... Please, hold on...”_

The voice was so quiet now, as if it wasn’t near him at all, but at a distance. If he could swim at that moment, he would find the voice again, for it was the only thing keeping him...

A loud splash reverberated in his ears. He awoke again from his painful and brief slumber, groaning as he was pushed upon the wet sand by that mysterious body that had saved him. He rolled over on his side, his face contorting in measures of anguish. The sobbing was still choking, and the voice didn’t know what to do.

 _“Please, don’t die!”_ he barely heard. He moaned again, dizzy and disoriented. Where was he...? Was this Neverland again? No, this wasn’t the land of immortality... he could feel it... this shore was _home._

“No... No! Henry... Emma...” Neal reached out a frantic, limp hand and clawed the clumped sand. The frigid hand clutched his again. His face pressed against the earth, he opened his eyes slowly, wincing every few seconds just from the merest movement. As his consciousness began to fade, for the last time, he watched as the sun illuminated the shadow of a figure, kissing the back of his hand.

Day dissolved into night.

* * *

 

Neal opened his eyes to a fireside.

The vision was unclear at first. He was seeing stars fizz around his brain, and it took him about ten blinks to rid himself of them. His eyes watered, but soon the image became defined.

He lay on his side, the night stretching before him in a dark sky. His brow furrowed as he looked down and saw blankets drawn up to his chin. He groaned incoherently, leaning his head back on whatever makeshift pillow he was given-- for it certainly wasn’t a bed of swan’s down.

Abruptly, Neal felt hands and a cool washcloth touch his face. He reclined his head upward to find two women stooping above him.

The first, the one tending to his forehead, was a very young woman with porcelain fair skin, a woven crown of hair, and clear blue eyes. She might have been a princess, and knowing what world he was in he was sure she was.

The second woman was clad in armor. Her asian heritage was evident in her hair and skin, and she looked upon him with such intense focus. Neal wasn’t sure if it was worry across her eyes, or something more threatening...

He tried to sit up, but both their hands reached down toward him to keep him against his pallet. “Be still,” the brunette woman said. “You’re in no shape to move about.”

Neal sighed, nodding slowly in agreement with her statement. The woman moved around, lifting his blanket and checking his wound. He winced when she touched a sensitive area, and the warrior woman rolled her eyes. The princess grimaced, muttering a sorry under her breath.

“You’ve been out for twelve hours,” the warrior began, kneeling beside him. She was scrutinizing his face, as if she expected it to betray something about himself. “At least since we found you.”

Slowly, Neal brought his hand to his face and rubbed a bit of the aching out of his head. He groaned again, feeling so stiff and jaunty like a board. If only he _could_ move, could walk around, could do _something_.

“Emma...” he muttered, trying to form some sort of sentence that informed them of who he was... but it just wasn’t happening.

Somehow the both of them got the message. Their eyes widened, and they looked at each other in bewilderment.

“You know Emma?” the princess asked, ringing out the washcloth in a basin and dabbing his heated forehead again.

Neal blinked, licking his lips and squinting his eyes. “Do you?” he asked, pleased that he was able to form an actual question, albeit in a cracked and weak voice.

The warrior leaned into his line of vision. “Emma and Mary Margaret journeyed with us some time ago. We helped them return to the land without magic. What is your relationship with them?”

The princess tilted her head at the warrior’s question. “Mulan, one thing at a time! Don’t overwhelm him!” She turned back to Neal and smiled. “I’m sorry, we should introduce ourselves. My name’s Aurora, and this is my friend Mulan. My husband Phillip is around here somewhere, gathering firewood I think. We carried you to our campsite and I have been taking care of your wound.”

“Er… thank you,” Neal said to her. _‘Good way to not overwhelm me,’_ he thought sarcastically, but he inclined his head toward Mulan. He’d rather answer her question than process all the information he was being given at once, in his delirious state. “I… knew Emma a long time ago. We were… sort of together, I guess.”

Aurora sucked in a breath, and she and Mulan exchanged glances. The princess turned back, spouting out in a rapid burst, “Are you Henry’s father?”

Neal hardly expected _this_ to come out of her mouth, but he nodded. “Y-yeah… how did you know?”

Aurora’s eyes fell to her fingers where she picked underneath the nails. “When Emma and Mary Margaret were here, Henry and I connected with each other in a nightmarescape. We were both placed under a sleeping curse once, and so we helped your friends get back home.”

The woman looked stricken by memories of this time. He smiled at her as he suffered through the pain of breathing. “I’m sure they already thanked you but… helping them means a lot to me too.”

She smiled, and her face brightened already. Her eyes, however, drifted away from Neal to a figure approaching near them. “Phillip!” she cried, her smile widening as she jumped up and raced toward his form.

Neal watched as Mulan watched them go, but he neglected to turn his head toward them. He knew the headache would get even worse if he did.

“Why are you here?” Mulan said sternly, her attention now focused entirely on him. It would seem the woman had little patience for him already.

Neal groaned, swiping a hand through his hair and kneading his aching forehead. “I don’t… I don’t know. I mean… It all happened so fast.” He forced himself to slide up in the pallet so that he could at least look at her properly, and made it to a semi-sitting position. “I was… I was trying to find Regina with Emma, David and Mary Margaret… Emma had thought that my fiancée Tamara was lying to me and had kidnapped Regina… but I didn’t believe her, until…”

He sighed, continuing to rub his forehead with grief. “Go on,” Mulan said beside him, her eyes briefly glancing up to the talking couple a few yards away. She nodded in encouragement.

Neal’s mouth twitched from the painful memory. “Until Tamara shot me. That’s when I finally believed Emma.” He looked to the side at the slowly dwindling fire. “All this time she was telling the truth, and I… I trusted a stranger.”

Coward. He’d truly been the lowest of cowards. He’d been afraid Emma was telling the truth, because deep down he already knew she was. He wanted to believe that a land without magic could grant him happiness, but in the end… All he ended up doing was returning to the magic and falling for it all over again.

“Emma could always tell when someone was lying,” he continued. “It’s one of her gifts. She probably knew I was lying when I said I was happy with Tamara… even if I didn’t know it myself. I don’t know what I’m happy with anymore…”

Mulan breathed deeply beside him, her eyes closed in contemplation. Neal leaned his head just slightly. “Look, I’m sorry for unloading all that on you… I…”

The warrior raised her hand and smiled. “It’s… fine. We all have our demons we must conquer.”

Neal nodded, turning back to the fire and folding his hands. It was then that Aurora dragged her husband over by his arm, both of them smiling. Philip set the wood he’d collected by the fire. “Philip, this is Neal. He knows Emma and Mary Margaret!”

She looked so happy to simply be introducing a stranger to her husband. Neal couldn’t understand her blind optimism, but in any case her husband smiled, as Mulan got up and retreated to the other side of the camp. Philip leaned down his hand for Neal to shake. “It’s an honor, sir. Your friends saved my wife and my friend for more times than they could even recount to me. For that I am in theirs, and your debt.”

Neal shook his hand, though he didn’t feel very deserving of this praise. “No, I mean… That’s just Emma, you know. She’ll do anything for people close to her.”

Philip nodded, putting an arm around Aurora. The couple was so happy… Why couldn’t Neal be happy like that?

“Be that as it may,” Philip continued. “But any friend of theirs is a friend of ours, and you are welcome in our party for as long as you’d like.”

Neal smiled at this, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, all of you. I… might be dead right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Aurora frowned. “No more talk like that, alright? I’ll make sure you’re healed soon, so that you can get back to Emma, and tell her you love her.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing. He avoided the question “how do you know I love her?” and instead asked, “How am I supposed to get back? Do you know of a portal?”

The princess grimaced, looking at her husband with dismay. “Er… no. But I’m sure we’ll find a way! There’s always a way when love is involved.”

Neal looked away, burrowing back into his pallet. “Wake me up when you find it,” he joked. All but Mulan laughed, and he locked eyes with her. She had to have seen something in his eyes, because Neal felt some unspoken thread of thought coming from her that made him inwardly shudder.

He closed his eyes, feigning sleep as the trio moved about the campfire, building it up and settling in for the night themselves.

Neal hadn’t wanted to tell them… But Mulan already knew.

He didn’t know if he even _wanted_ to go back.

 


	3. Beautiful Tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided that I'm going to just write as much as I can and post as quickly as I finish writing the chapters so that I can get the story on track, then I'll shift into a weekly or bi-weekly thing. Sound good to everyone? Great! Let's get on with the chapter! <3

_Sunrise aboard the_ Jolly Roger _was one of Hook’s favorite things about being a pirate. Of course, there was the booty, and the ladies, and that thrill he got from barking orders at the crew, and the feeling of never sailing the same ocean twice… But watching the brilliant ball of light ascend from the horizon and blanket the sea in gold was… truly breathtaking._

 _This particular sunrise was one he thought he’d be watching alone, like all the others before it. It was a small moment for himself that he liked to cherish, but the_ boy _had other plans for Killian’s morning._

_“Couldn’t sleep, Captain?”_

_It was just after he’d captured him, and apparently Baelfire rose early as well. “No, lad,” Hook said, leaning both arms at the rail. His eyes flickered. “Bae…” he corrected. “I’m watching the sunrise.”_

_The boy joined him, in that same carefree position he’d occupied last night when he consoled Killian’s troubled mind. “You do that often?”_

_“...Aye,” he replied, unable to lie to the boy. If a crew member had found him here, he might have said he was scoping the sea for their next course… But he couldn’t make up such falsities when Baelfire’s eyes were just like his mother’s-- completely able to see through his facade. He didn’t know how he knew this, but… he just knew._

_Bae nodded, and started to watch it with him. It was at its half-circle now. The world was only partly awake, but Killian’s eyes were wide open. “Every morning,” he began, pointing at the sun. “I look at that ball of fire and I think to myself, I’m a bloody pirate looking at the bloody sun. And I thank my lucky stars that I’m still able to.”_

_The boy chuckled with a sly smirk. “So you’re a poet and a pirate?”_

_The next moment Bae was nudged rather harshly, but playfully, by a leather-clad elbow. “Aye, and if you have any sense in your brain you’d be thanking your stars, too.”_

_“Why?” Bae said more seriously, his eyes earnest. “What have they brought me but misfortune? My father has abandoned me, and I’m stranded in a foreign land with strangers. That’s not very lucky if you ask me.”_

_Killian clicked his teeth, shifting his feet and sighing. “Well you’re always looking on the bright side, aren’t you?” he said with sarcasm lacing his tongue. He paused, lost in his own myriad of thoughts. “Neverland may be foreign to you, but you have me on your side.”_

_Baelfire looked up at him, and it was only then that Killian remembered his reason for keeping the boy around in the first place. His face was so trusting, a shocking gesture from someone who didn’t trust easily. Killian’s plans all along were to lord him over the Dark One and lure the boy’s father to his death…_

_His heart clenched with doubt. The sun was rising further and further, but though Bae’s eyes were trained on its brilliance, Killian’s were on the boy. He couldn’t bear the thought that Bae was a product of both his sworn enemy and his lost love… He could only see Milah’s beauty in his face._

_Beautiful… That was a word he’d never thought of before. Looking at the boy, he breathed deeply, suddenly wondering if his lucky stars made the boy his own kind of beautiful in the waking sun, too…_

* * *

Sunrise aboard the _Jolly Roger_ used to be one of Hook’s favorite things… Now he cannot bear it.

The loss was catching up with him. Slowly, he could feel it the way Emma had felt it the moment she knew Neal was gone. Hook had felt similar pangs of sorrow wash over him when the boy’s head had been covered with a burlap sack… But that was guilt then. This… This was undeniable _grief_.

The sun and its unchanging rays hurt his eyes. A light so warm didn’t deserve to be shone on Hook’s ship. He didn’t feel warm… He felt so cold… He shouldn’t be here, not again. He didn’t _deserve_ to be here. He’d lost his right to Neverland’s waters long ago, because it didn’t feel the same sailing them without… _him_.

But he was watching the sunrise this dreary morning with Emma Swan, and all the memories of a better time were resurfacing. He could do nothing but brave it in front of her, for fear of collapsing. He wouldn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep even. Only Swan to keep him company, since the Crocodile had already gone below deck. There was nothing to do but have his heart break more every second.

They were silent together, and Killian suddenly felt alone again, watching the sunrise years and years before a young boy with a melancholy disposition interrupted the cycle. He was a different man then, one whom he sometimes wished would resurface, just to wipe the slate clean.

Swallowing hard, he finally broke the uncomfortable silence and glanced at Emma. “This is a dark land, Miss Swan,” he began, and she broke her gaze from the sunrise to pay attention. “I was here for far too long. Long enough to know that living in an unchanging world will… _ironically_ … change you more than you care to know. Be prepared for that.”

Emma raised her eyebrow. “Are you?”

Killian laughed, twisting his body so that he was anchored toward her. “You always know how to respond, lass. Why don’t you worry about yourself and leave me to my own ‘life’s journey’?” he finished with an air quote with his good hand.

“I’m not worried for me, Hook,” she said, turning toward him as well and crossing her arms. “I’m worried for my son. I can handle this.”

Hook’s eyes searched for something in the air, something to say for Emma’s sake. But these little reminders of why he was here, Henry this and “he just lost his father” that… His lips were numb.

When she saw he wasn’t going to reply, she twitched her lip a little and sighed. “I’ll go and wake everyone… We have a long day ahead of us, that’s for sure.” Killian nodded and faced the horizon again.

“We’ll get him back,” he said when Emma had already turned to leave the deck.

This caused her to pause. Her eyes were suspended in disbelief, but Killian didn’t look at her. His eyes were still searching. “If…” he began again, quietly, afraid his words would die in his throat. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll help you get the boy back, Emma.”

She swallowed and stepped back toward him. “Who was it that you lost, Hook?” she asked, and he, unable to meet her gaze still watched the sun.

Emma continued to stare at him, as if she knew something he wasn’t telling her. But the truth was, she couldn’t possibly know… But she did _understand_.

Hook grinned with hollow airs, and spun around on his heel. Since the sun was climbing higher, he crossed the deck and took hold of the helm. “You wake those land lovers down in the cabin. You were correct on one thing, Miss Swan. They will come for us… It’s only a matter of time before they spot the ship.”

As the captain took control of the helm Emma peered at him in that questioning, “I’m on to you” way she so often had when a secret was being kept from her. Killian wanted to delight in her confusion, but…

“Go, Swan. If you want Henry back.”

Without breaking her gaze until she was below deck, Emma left him alone. The more that was unsaid between them, the more Killian felt the weight on his shoulders growing. He rubbed his mouth slowly, his eyes wandering again, from the sun to the mast… to the shores of Neverland. But they finally landed on two small letters carved into the wood. _P & S_.

Killian ran his fingers over the scratched markings. He had wanted to delight in her confusion, but he couldn’t be happy with what he’d done. In the back of his mind, a voice kept repeating to him, _“this is all your fault,”_ though he couldn’t acknowledge the words.

_“You brought this misfortune upon yourself, and everyone on this ship. You deserve all the pain you have, and more.”_

This didn’t reach his consciousness. All he could think was how utterly alone he was when, once upon a time, he might have had a family… all in a young boy’s beautiful eyes.

_What a tragedy._

Breathing hotly through his nostrils, Killian Jones steeled his gaze to the waters of Neverland. _Peter bloody Pan_ was holding _Baelfire’s son_ hostage. His blood was boiling from the heat of the sun, now burning with white light overhead.

“I’ll be damned if I let you win, Pan,” he growled under his breath, his knuckles as white as that sun from gripping the wheel of the helm.

“This time, I _will_ see you in hell.”

 


End file.
